An invisible knife of distrust sliced through Nash’s chest again, and he cursed the feeling. Although her words tried to convince him otherwise, the tone of her voice led him to believe she still questioned his innocence.
Ever since meeting the very exciting Maxey Littleton, he’d experienced a wounding ache in the middle of his chest, and he knew he had to control it before it engulfed his whole soul. It saddened him to think she would not believe him—that he couldn’t make her understand about his dangerous uncle.
He caressed a lock of her hair that had fallen across her brow. Silky, just as he remembered.
“It hurts that you do not believe me, Maxey, but I will not stop trying to protect you. I know the truth, although you refuse to believe it, so I will not relent. Only I know what despicable things my uncle will do, which is why I cannot turn my back on you, nor him.”
Scowling, she shook her head. “I don’t know why you think such things. I believe you, Nash. Why else would I be here with you now?”
She wasn’t a good performer, but for some reason, she wanted him to think otherwise. He would continue to let her believe she had the upper hand.
“Because I practically forced you to come.”
“Please, Nash, no more.” She tried to move past him off the bed, but he circled her with his arms, holding her tight against him. Pain thickened in his chest, and he wished he could make the agony of caring for her disappear.
“Oh, Maxey.” He kissed her forehead. “What can I do to make you trust me?”
She didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to. But experiencing her softness pressed against him was his undoing. Fervor ignited in him, and he didn’t want the powerful, exhilarating feeling to end.
He trailed his lips from her brow down the side of her face, just content to feel her soft skin. Even through her stiffness, her breaths puffed against his neck.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he loosened the ribbon holding it together and let it drop behind her on the bed. With her head tilted back, her stare rested on him, but no longer was it hard with anger. Heated desire filled her bluish-gray eyes now.
“Maxey,” he whispered. “You are so beautiful.” He placed a kiss on the tip of her perfectly shaped nose. “I do not know what would become of me if my uncle were to hurt you.” He pecked at her lips briefly. “If Matthew ever got hold of you, I would search the ends of the earth to tear you away from him. I would never give up until I had you in my arms, protected.”
“Nash, please.” She gazed at him with so much tenderness.
“Please what?” he asked.
He waited for her to stop him, to halt this passionate moment as she had done before. She lowered her focus to his mouth and sighed. As if wanting him to kiss her, she closed her eyes. He could not deny her body’s silent urging for his kisses.
When he covered her mouth, her sigh blended with his. She tasted strongly of the mints she had eaten. Timidly, she slid her hands around his waist, running her fingers along his muscles, which drove him mad.
Urgency consumed him, and he slanted his mouth, deepening the kiss. She gasped but responded the way he had hoped for, the way he had thought about since he held her in his bed during her dream.
Nash pushed her back on the bed. Tingling sensations danced over him. Her fingers moved to his chest, then climbed to his neck as she held his face to hers.
He never wanted this moment to end. But a knock came on the door and jerked him to awareness.
Still holding her in his arms, he cursed, hoping the intruder would pass. Her bosom rose and fell in a fast rhythm that matched his breathing. He inhaled her sweet jasmine scent. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers, enjoying their closeness for just a little longer.
The knock came upon the door again. “Mr. Black? Your meals are here.”
Maxey pushed Nash up until he met her eyes. “Does he have the wrong room?”
“No.”
“Then why did he call you Mr. Black?”
“Do you not remember? While I am on this ship, my name is Nash Black.”
“Oh yes,” she replied, still breathless.
Grudgingly, he pulled away and stood. Maxey picked up her ribbon and began to fix her hair.
He answered the door and then took the trays of food from the porter. “I thank you.” Turning, he kicked the door closed with his boot. He placed the trays on the small table at the far wall before glancing at Maxey. She sat on the bed, her eyes downcast as she did her hair.
He sighed in frustration. It seemed impossible that, once again, something had thwarted his plans for holding Maxey and enjoying her closeness.
